


Ghosts of the Past

by TazzyJan



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Fête des Mousquetaires Challenge, Gen, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 19:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12395115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TazzyJan/pseuds/TazzyJan
Summary: The boys get stranded in a dense, snowy forest and some of the ghosts of Aramis’ past come calling.For the Halloween Fête des Mousquetaires Challenge.





	Ghosts of the Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snow_Glory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow_Glory/gifts).



Ghosts of the Past

Athos reined his horse to a halt as the driving snow whipped around them. His brothers did likewise albeit begrudgingly. He could understand their reluctance. This was not an ideal place to make camp. The trees were dense yet they did little to thwart the biting wind that turned the falling snow into icy projectiles. 

“We have to stop,” Athos said, raising his voice to be heard over the roar of the wind. 

Porthos started to argue but Aramis’ hand on his arm stopped him. “He’s right,” Aramis said with a shiver that had very little to do with the cold. “Even if we could go on, the horses cannot. They need shelter.”

“Just until the weather breaks,” Athos promised. He scanned the area then pointed to a small break in the trees. It wasn’t much but it would give them some cover and allow them to tether the horses close together for warmth. 

By the time they had cleared an area and had a tent erected they were soaked and shivering. They had opted for a single tent both for expediency and warmth but the raging wind had driven the snow beneath their cloaks and into any available gaps in their leathers. Aramis, always the most sensitive to the cold, was practically numb, his hands stiff and fumbling and Athos had finally shoved him down inside the tent as the rest of them bustled about.

When Athos came inside, shaking off as much of the damp snow as he could just outside the entrance, he found Aramis huddled in the back, his legs drawn up to his chest, his expression as miserable as it was guilty. Tossing his hat into the far corner, he unfastened his cloak and went to his brother. Dropping to his knees beside him, he wrapped the heavy wool around both of them as he pulled Aramis against his chest. 

“Porthos will have a fire going soon,” Athos said softly. He could feel Aramis shivering still and berated himself for not sending him inside as soon as they’d had the tent up, Aramis’ pride be damned. He knew how quickly his brother succumbed to the cold and they had been riding in this storm for hours.

“D’Artagnan?” Aramis asked trying to keep his teeth from chattering as he spoke.

“Getting the horses tethered. He’ll be in as soon as they are seen to.” He felt Aramis tense as if about to object to the younger man being out in the storm and he tightened his arms around him. “He will be but a minute. Porthos has him within his sight. He will not come in until the lad does. We will not leave him out in this alone.”

“I’m sorry,” Aramis mumbled, ashamed of having to be coddled.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Athos told him sincerely. “Or do you begrudge it when you must come and fetch me from one tavern or another?”

“You know I don’t.”

“We all have our demons, brother. That a snowy forest can call yours to mind is no fault of yours.”

Aramis started to say more but was interrupted by the arrival of Porthos and d’Artagnan. “Christ, it’s cold!” Porthos said, shaking off the snow that had accumulated on him. “Don’t know how long that fire’ll last. I tried to angle some branches over it to keep the snow off of it but with this wind…”

“It will have to do,” Athos said. He doubted if it would last through the night but it would at least allow them to heat some food and the tent would keep the worst of the weather at bay. It was not ideal but they had endured worse. At least they were together. 

“Give me a moment and I’ll see about preparing something to eat before the fire goes out,” d’Artagnan said as he tried to rub feeling back into his cold hands. He knew they didn’t have long, not if they didn’t want to be stuck eating cold tack or trying to build another fire. Considering how much trouble Porthos had in the first place, he seriously doubted if they would be able to manage the feat a second time. 

“Come and get warm,” Aramis said as he tried to move out of the circle of Athos’ arms. “I can see to our dinner.”

“No,” Athos said, holding tight to Aramis as d’Artagnan and Porthos both shook their heads.

“I do not need to be coddled so,” Aramis protested.

“We are not coddling you,” Athos replied. “But you are still half frozen yourself. We know you feel the cold more so than the rest of us do. There is no shame in that, brother.”

“It is not fair...”

“Do you hear me complaining?” D’Artagnan argued. “Stay with Athos. I will see to our dinner.”

“You have already been in the cold longer than the rest of us,” Aramis argued back. He did not like the thought of d’Artagnan braving the cold once more, especially if he could do it in his stead.

“And I am more accustomed to it than the rest of you,” d’Artagnan replied. “What? Do you think a farm simply stops come winter? Even if there are no crops to be tended, there are still animals to be seen to. I am used to spending long hours in the cold and snow.”

“He will not venture farther than the front of the tent,” Porthos said, surmising some of Aramis’ misgivings. “I will keep a sharp eye on him.”

“Very well,” Aramis relented. He was grateful for his brothers’ support yet he could not help but feel ashamed. He was a grown man, a Musketeer. The others should not need to cosset him simply because the weather had turned on them.

D’Artagnan managed to make some stew before the driving wind and snow smothered their fire. It wasn’t much but it was hot and it helped chase away the last of the lingering cold. As they ate, they traded worried glances. The deeper into the woods they had ventured, the quieter Aramis had grown until Athos had at last called a halt. Even now, their brother hardly spoke, instead staring down into his bowl, his mind clearly fixed on another place and time.

“How do you want to set the watches?” Porthos asked once they had finished their meager meal. 

“I doubt a watch will be necessary,” Athos replied. “No one will be foolish enough to be out in this without good reason and we are far enough off the main road to avoid discovery if anyone should pass by.”

“Even if someone does come upon us, the horses would let us know,” d’Artagnan added. “They won’t rest easy here like this.”

Porthos’ eyes shot to Aramis then flitted back to Athos. He understood his reasoning but he wasn’t sure if Aramis could endure being out here without someone keeping watch. It was one of the things that plagued him most about Savoy, that his brothers had been butchered in their tents as they lay sleeping without so much as a chance to defend themselves.

“Athos is right,” Aramis said softly. He had not missed the look that Porthos had given Athos and knew his brother would not let the matter go unless he said something. “We are alone out here. No one is likely to come upon us and if they do the horses will alert us long before they arrive. Keeping a watch would be pointless.”

“Will you be able to rest without one?” Athos asked flat out.

“I believe so,” Aramis said, nodding. Others may have found Athos’ direct nature off-putting but it was one of the things he had always liked about the man. He never had to guess where he stood with Athos. He always spoke his mind plainly.

“If you find you cannot, you will tell me.”

“I will tell you. I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aramis couldn’t be sure what had awoken him at first. He glanced around the tent and saw that the others were still fast asleep. He started to close his eyes when he heard it again. His name, whispered on the wind. 

Throwing back the cloak and blanket covering him, he scrambled out of the tent. He cast his eyes about wildly for whoever might have called his name but there was no sign of anyone else about. Even the horses were calm. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he shivered in the cold and headed back to the tent. He lay back down next to Athos carefully, doing his best not to wake the man. His brother slept light at the best of times. He would be hyper-aware of any movement on his part.

“What is it?” Athos asked as if to prove that very point once Aramis had laid down again.

“Nothing,” Aramis whispered. When his reply was greeted with nothing but silence, Aramis sighed. “I thought I heard someone call my name.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“It must have been. There was no trace of anyone and only a fool would be out in this cold. Besides...”

“What?” Athos asked, frowning at the hesitancy in his brother’s voice.

“It sounded like a woman,” Aramis admitted.

“You were dreaming, brother,” Athos said firmly. 

“You’re right, I’m sure.”

“Hm. Well, next time wake one of us before you go to check. I don’t want you out in this cold alone.”

“I am not a child, Athos,” Aramis replied.

“No, you are far more precious to me than any mere child. Now try to get some sleep. If the weather breaks we may be able to make for Paris come dawn.”

Aramis awoke twice more to the sound of someone calling his name. The first time he ignored it, telling himself it was simply a dream as Athos as said. The second time, however, it had been much louder, much more clear, and there had been an urgency to it that had set his heart pounding against his ribs. He had thrown off his blanket, intent on finding the mysterious caller. Athos’ hand clamping down on his arm had startled him and he had nearly yelped in surprise.

“Again?” Athos asked.

“I heard it, Athos. She is calling for me. She... she needs my help,” Aramis said feeling foolish yet at the same time almost desperate.

“Who?” Athos asked as he threw back his own blanket and grabbed up both of their cloaks. When Aramis only looked at him he shoved his cloak at him. “Not alone.”

“It... I am not sure. I... I believe it is... Adele,” Aramis said, taking the cloak and wrapping it around his shoulders.

“Adele left you for the Cardinal, Aramis,” Athos said. He was not trying to be hurtful but his brother needed to face the facts. Adele had chosen the Cardinal over him. As bitter a pill as that was to swallow, it was the truth.

“Did she?” Aramis challenged. “We have only the word of the Cardinal’s servants. She said she loved me, Athos.”

“And how many women have you told that very same thing to?” Athos countered, though not unkindly. 

“I never lied to them. I never gave them false hope,” Aramis said, hurt at his brother’s accusation. “I told them they were beautiful and worthy of love but I did not profess that which I did not feel. And neither did Adele.”

“So Adele loved the Cardinal, too, then?”

“She never told him she loved him,” Aramis said quietly. Talking about Adele was bringing up all those old memories. He hated to admit it, but the pain of her leaving him was as fresh today as it was the day she had left.

“Aramis, I do not wish to argue with you about this,” Athos relented. “I am only trying to make you see reason. Adele chose a life of comfort with the Cardinal over a life of uncertainty with a Musketeer. I know it hurts to find out that one you have loved, have given your heart and soul to, does not return your devotion. But the simple fact is Adele made her choice.”

“Then why are you helping me look for her?” Aramis asked as he stood and exited the tent.

“Because you are my brother,” Athos replied. “Because I do not wish you out in this cold on your own. Because something had disturbed you sleep enough to drive you out of the warmth and safety of our tent twice now. Because I do not want you to face it, whatever it turns out to be, on your own.”

Aramis opened his mouth to reply but Athos stepped closer and covered it with a gloved hand. “Come. Let us see if we can find whoever this is who keeps beckoning you. Perhaps then you can get some rest.”

They searched the campsite and the surrounding woods looking for any sign of disturbance. Unless they could fly, no one had been in the area save them since the storm began. Athos paused, considering exactly what that might mean for his brother. It was no secret that Aramis and snowy forests did not mix well. Most of the time they were able to work around it. The few times they had been forced to camp in one, they had kept a watchful eye on the man and departed at the first opportunity. With the way things were shaping up, Athos thought they might find themselves here for at least another day, possibly more. He knew the longer they stayed here the more distraught Aramis was likely to become. He needed to find something for the man to focus on. Perhaps then he would stop hearing phantom voices calling to him in the dead of night.

When they rose in the morning they were pleased to see that the snow had stopped. The problem now, however, was the cold. The temperature had dropped dramatically overnight and had turned the snow covering the ground to treacherous ice. They did not dare try to ride in this for their animals’ sakes if not their own.

“Looks like we’re going to be here for a couple of days,” Porthos said uneasily. He could see how tired Aramis was. The man obviously hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Athos looked a bit piqued himself. Well, at least Aramis hadn’t been alone with whatever he was going through. 

“Agreed,” d’Artagnan said. “The horses can’t be ridden in this.”

“Will they be alright where they are?” Athos asked.

“For now. I’ll need to move them before nightfall. I want to bring them a bit closer to the camp. There’s enough for them to graze on so they should be fine for a couple of days.”

“Since the weather’s calmed down I’m gonna gather some more wood and try to build a fire again. Whelp, you wanna see if you can scrounge up any food?” Porthos asked.

“I can try,” d’Artagnan said as he began donning his leathers. “But don’t get your hopes up. Most animals are in their dens. We might get lucky and come across a hare or two.”

“See what you can find,” Athos said. He remembered Aramis’ phantom caller and hesitated. “No more than an hour and keep the camp in sight.”

D’Artagnan frowned and started to protest but a glance at Porthos stopped him. He took a good look at his brothers then, taking in the dark circles under Aramis’ eyes and the slightly lighter ones under Athos’.

“No more than an hour and I will stay within sight,” d’Artagnan agreed. “‘Tis far too cold to be out in this for long.”

In the end Porthos gathered enough wood to keep their fire going for most of the day while d’Artagnan went about setting a few traps. He didn’t have high hopes but there was always a chance a hungry animal would stumble across them. If not, they had enough provisions to see them through a few days though the fare would be far from appetizing.

“I could have gone with Porthos,” Aramis said softly once the other two had left.

“If they had need of you, they would have said so,” Athos replied. He closed his eyes, realizing how harsh his words had sounded and reached out to clasp Aramis’ arm. “You are exhausted, brother. They will not be long and we are right here if they should need us. For now, help me set this tent to rights. With four of us in here it will grow crowded quickly if we do not take care.”

“Should we set up one of the other ones?” Aramis asked as he began helping Athos straighten out the small space.

“No,” Athos shook his head. “It is far too cold for that. It will be snug but better that than waking to frozen toes.”

The second day passed slowly once the flurry of activity had died down. Porthos kept feeding the fire just outside the tent and it helped to keep some of the cold at bay. When the afternoon shadows started to grow long, the pair ventured back out once more, Porthos for firewood again and d’Artagnan to see if any of his traps bore fruit.

Athos had been about to go out looking for the pair, not liking how long they were taking when they finally returned to camp. “Sorry,” d’Artagnan said when he saw the annoyed look on the man’s face. “Had to reset all my traps. Looks like we get a hot dinner after all.”

“Let me dump this wood and I’ll go fetch some water,” Porthos said. “I found a stream not too far to the east. It’s half froze but the water should be clean.”

“Excellent,” Athos said before fixing Porthos with a look. “Do _not_ fall in.” Porthos only grinned in reply causing Athos to throw his hands up and stalk back into the tent. 

“I’ll go with you,” Aramis said, eager to do something. He felt like his brothers were playing nursemaid to him and it chafed at his pride. He was fine. He was certainly fit enough to fetch water from a stream. He wouldn’t even be alone.

“Aramis…” Athos began then sighed. He had not missed the determined look in Aramis’ eyes. Nothing short of a direct order would deter him and Athos was loathe to do that, understanding how detrimental it would likely be to Aramis’ sense of self-worth. “Do try to keep Porthos from falling in. He sinks like a stone.”

“I shall do my very best,” Aramis said after a moment’s hesitation. He had expected Athos to argue. His brother’s capitulation had thrown him. 

“Hurry back,” d’Artagnan called. “I want to get these rabbits on.”

“Oi! We’re hurrying already,” Porthos groused good-naturedly as he grabbed the buckets with one hand and Aramis with the other then headed toward the stream. He didn’t care to be out here any longer than necessary. The sun was starting to set giving the cold a bite to it that the weak sunlight had managed to hold at bay. 

They found the stream easily enough, just off to the east where Porthos had said. It was wider than Aramis had imagined and he guessed it was probably waist deep in the center. Even with the cold snap causing it to ice up, the water still flowed freely giving testament to the hidden strength of the current. He was glad now he had insisted on accompanying Porthos. A wrong move here and he could find himself swept downstream before he realized it. 

“I’m just gonna fill these,” Porthos said indicating the buckets in his hands. He took off his water skins and tossed them to Aramis. “You wanna fill those?”

“Of course,” Aramis said. Taking up the skins, he knelt down beside the stream and began filling. He turned his head to the right and was satisfied that Porthos was being sufficiently careful for once. Even he didn’t fancy a dunk in these frigid waters it would seem.

As Aramis filled the skins, he gazed down into the water. He frowned at his reflection, the shimmery surface of the water making his features bend and twist most unsettlingly. He was about to say something when movement in the water caught his attention. Frowning, he bent forward a bit further peering at the water’s surface. All at once everything seemed to change. The water grew more sluggish with thicker chunks of ice all up and down it. Thick snow-covered shrubs had sprouted up along the riverbank. Looking down, the once frosted ground he knelt on had changed to deep snow. With a shout, Aramis jerked back from the water’s edge. He landed hard on his backside and scrambled backward trying to escape.

“Aramis!” Porthos cried out when he heard his brother cry out. Dropping the buckets, he rushed toward the man. He had no idea what had frightened him so but it was clear that something had. Aramis looked like he was a hairsbreadth from panic. Not wanting to take a chance on the man suddenly taking off in his fright, Porthos reached down and grabbed him by the arms. He hauled him bodily to his feet and held him, giving him a shake to get him to look at him.

“Porthos?” Aramis asked, confused.

“You alright now, ‘Mis?” Porthos asked warily.

“I… Yes, I think so,” Aramis said, blushing hotly.

“What happened?” Porthos asked as he released the man to go pick up the buckets he had dropped.

“I… I don’t know,” Aramis said hesitantly. “One minute I was here and then…”

“Then?”

“Then… I wasn’t.”

“Hm,” Porthos murmured. He picked up the skins Aramis had dropped in his panic, glad to see they were full and slung them over his arm. “So where were you?” He felt Aramis tense when he put a hand on his arm but he didn’t let go. 

“Where else? Savoy,” Aramis said bitterly.

“Hey, nobody’s gonna fault you for that,” Porthos said as they slowly walked back to their campsite. “Being out here, like this, it’s bound to stir up old ghosts.”

“I heard someone call my name last night,” Aramis confided. “Several times. It’s what kept waking me up. Athos thinks I was merely dreaming. Perhaps I was. But I was not dreaming back there.”

While d’Artagnan set about cooking the rabbits he had trapped, Porthos stepped back out to gather up a bit more firewood. He caught Athos’ eye before he did, studiously ignoring the hurt look on Aramis’ face. His brother would forgive him given time and Porthos intended to see that he got the opportunity to do so.

“What happened?” Athos asked when he came over and began gathering up stray twigs and branches for kindling. 

“We were at the stream. He’d been too quiet as it was but I let it go. I know how he gets. I turned my back for half a minute and he starts yelling and scrambling back from the water like something’s gonna come out of it after him.”

“Did he say what happened?”

“He said he was back in Savoy,” Porthos spat angrily. He wasn’t so much angry at Athos as he was angry at Fate for trapping them here like this. “He told me about last night, too. Said that might have been a dream but this sure wasn’t. I’m worried about him, Athos.”

“As am I,” Athos said wearily. “But there is nothing we can do until the weather breaks.”

“You know as well as I do it’s going to be a couple of days before we can ride. The ground’s too slick.”

“Then we shall have to be on our guard.”

“What if we walk the horses?” Porthos asked. “Get as far out of these woods as we can and…”

“Porthos,” Athos said, stopping him. “We can’t risk it. We have shelter here. At least some game and clean water. We would be leaving all of that to possibly end up out in the open, exposed. If the weather turned again we could all freeze to death. The horses certainly would for they would have no cover at all.”

“We could stick to the tree line,” Porthos suggested weakly.

“And how does trading one forest for another benefit anyone? If I thought there was a reasonable chance we could get to shelter I would risk it. But you and I both know that there is very little along this way save fields and forests. We cannot risk us all over Aramis’ discomfiture. And he would not let us if we tried.”

“He was scared, Athos,” Porthos said softly, his voice pained. “Back at the stream. Whatever he saw, it scared him. He said it was just Savoy but…”

“But there is a great deal of Savoy that could send the strongest of us screaming into the night,” Athos agreed. “We will keep an eye on him. Especially at night. I did not hear this voice that was calling to him but he did, more than once. Either he is hearing something we are not or he is losing his mind. If Savoy was not enough to break him I refuse to believe a few snowy trees are now, therefore something is calling to our brother. Until we know what we will keep a very close eye on him.”

Unable to stomach hearing his brothers whisper about him, well-intended or not, Aramis took up one of the buckets of water and headed for the horses. He saw d’Artagnan stiffen out of the corner of his eye and knew the younger man was tracking him. At the moment he didn’t really care. All he cared about was putting some short distance between himself and the other two men. He knew they did not mean any insult by their actions but to be spoken about as if he were some… some simpleton… some damaged thing given to fits of histrionics was more than his battered pride could take at the moment. 

He forced himself to slow as he approached the horses, not wanting to upset them. He went to each in turn, letting them drink and made a note to refill the bucket at first light. Looking around, he was relieved to see that d’Artagnan was right. There was plenty for the animals for forage on for a few days. Once the horses were seen to, he set the bucket down and leaned against a young birch tree. If not for the cold the little clearing they found themselves in would be quite lovely. 

Aramis had just reached down to pick up the bucket once more when he heard it. It was no more than a whisper on the wind but he was certain he had heard it. And this, like the stream, was no dream. Someone was calling his name. Only it wasn’t someone. It was Adele. Dropping the bucket, he looked all around him for any sign of her. He knew it was impossible. But he also knew it was her voice calling to him. Either that, or he was losing his mind. 

_Aramis…_

Aramis spun toward the sound, her light, tinkling voice one he would know anywhere. When he turned, however, there was no one there. “Adele,” he whispered reaching forward as if he might somehow touch what he could not see.

“Aramis? What is it?” d’Artagnan asked, his voice shattering the stillness that had fallen over him. The horses snorted and pawed at the ground at the sound of his voice, giving testament to the intrusive nature of it and his eyes widened. “Whoa. Easy now. Whoa.”

“No-nothing,” Aramis stammered. He bent down and picked up the bucket, ignoring the way his hands shook as he did so. His head down, he moved past d’Artagnan heading back inside the tent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By unspoken agreement, Porthos slept only lightly that night. Whatever was going on with Aramis, whether it was simply the stress of being here or something else, it was not good. Their brother had grown more and more quiet as the night wore on until he had simply stopped speaking altogether. D’Artagnan did not tell them what had gone on by the horses but it was clear that something had and that worried him as well. 

Athos, he knew, was worried, too. This was hardly the first time they had been forced to camp in the forest during winter. While Aramis didn’t like it, he never reacted like this. That led Porthos to believe there was more going on here than just the ghosts of Savoy growing restless once more. Athos had told him of the phantom voice Aramis had heard calling to him. Porthos did not believe in ghosts and spirits. What he did believe in was guilt. 

Guilt and fear could turn the sound of the wind through the trees into a scream. So could hope. It could turn the rustle of a tent flap into the whisper of a name if the hearer wanted it bad enough. Considering who it was Athos said Aramis heard calling to him, Porthos could understand it. Aramis might have many paramours but he genuinely loved very few of them. Adele Bessette was one of those few. When she had left him for the Cardinal it had wounded him deeply. So much so that he was apparently imagining her voice calling to him on the winter wind.

Porthos was just starting to relax, thinking Aramis was going to sleep through the night after all, when the wind began to pick up outside the tent. He heard the leaves rustle overhead then Aramis was jerking awake, sitting up and looking around the tent wildly.

“It’s just the wind, brother,” Porthos tried to reason. “Go back to sleep.”

“I heard my name,” Aramis whispered.

“No one called your name,” Porthos assured him. “You were dreaming. ‘Tis the wind. Nothing more.”

A second later another gust of wind blew through the trees hard enough to shake the sides of the tent, drawing a gasp from Aramis and causing Porthos to sit up with a frown. “I don’t know why you can’t hear her, but she is calling for me,” Aramis said as he grabbed his cloak and slung it around his shoulders.

“Aramis, wait!” Porthos called then began to curse as he had to fight his way out of his own bedding to follow the man.

By the time Porthos managed to extricate himself, he found Aramis standing in the middle of their makeshift camp. He was spinning around, trying to look in every direction at once, presumably for the source of his phantom caller. Grumbling under his breath, Porthos approached his brother warily. He knew Aramis would never do anything to hurt him but Aramis was quite clearly not in his right mind just now.

“Brother, no one is here,” Porthos said gently but firmly. “Let’s get you back inside before you freeze.”

“Porthos, I heard her,” Aramis insisted, though he did not fight his friend when he took him by the arm and once more led him into their tent.

“Heard who?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Adele.”

“Adele is gone, Aramis. She left you for the bloody Cardinal. She isn’t out here playing hide and seek in the freezing cold.”

“You think I’m hearing things,” Aramis said not even trying to mask the hurt in his voice.

“Yes,” Porthos said honestly. “I think being here, like this, has brought back a lot of very painful memories for you. Obviously, something about this reminds you of Adele so you imagine it’s her calling for you. But she isn’t here, brother. No one is here save for us.”

Aramis drew away from Porthos then, unable to look him in the eye. “My apologies for disturbing your sleep,” he said stiffly. Taking his cloak, he wrapped it tightly around himself and lay back down next to Athos though he was mindful not to touch the man and inadvertently wake him. Porthos was right, of course. There was no way Adele was out here. The roads were impassable. She would have had to have been caught in the same storm as they were. He was imagining things. _Hearing voices._ Perhaps he was finally losing his mind after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Porthos was tense. When d’Artagnan went to check his snares, Porthos told Aramis to go with him startling everyone. Athos quirked an eyebrow at him but nodded saying he would help Porthos with the firewood and water. Once the pair were gone, Athos turned to his brother expectantly.

“He heard Adele again last night,” Porthos said as they began gathering wood. “Ran out of the tent looking for her. We need to get the hell out of here, Athos.”

“The weather is clearing but it is still too treacherous to travel,” Athos sighed. He had expected something like this from the look on Porthos’ face alone. He understood his desire to leave. If he thought it would not be risking their very lives to do so he would have them leave at once. “We should be able to leave by tomorrow. He can make it through one more day.”

“Sure of that, are you?”

“What choice does he have?” Athos shot back. “What choice do any of us have? We will see him through this but he must hold on for one more day.”

D’Artagnan didn’t say anything as they headed for his traps. He knew something was going on with Aramis, something related to Savoy yet not. He could read the fear in his brother’s eyes and could understand it given his past. What he could not understand was the shame he saw there as well.

“You know we are with you,” d’Artagnan finally ventured as they stopped next to his first trap. It was empty so he quickly checked the bait before moving on. “Whatever is going on with you right now…”

Aramis barked out a laugh, unable to stop himself. Poor d’Artagnan. The lad was so very earnest. He did not know that he was talking to a mad man. Aramis thought it horribly unfair of Athos and Porthos to saddle the boy with him like this. 

“Aramis?”

“I am sorry, lad,” Aramis said after a moment. “I am… That is… I fear… I fear I am losing my mind.”

“You are not,” d’Artagnan said firmly.

“An expert on such things are you?”

“No,” d’Artagnan flushed. “But the mere fact that you fear it is so speaks to your sanity. You… you have been sorely tested, my friend. If you have a bad moment now and again, what man can fault you for that?”

“You are too generous by far,” Aramis said, touched by the young man’s loyalty. “I… I have been hearing voices.”

“Of your comrades?”

“Of Adele.”

“Oh,” d’Artagnan said, unsure what to make of that. “Why would…”

“I do not know,” Aramis lamented loudly.

“Hey,” d’Artagnan said, dropping the bait he had been carrying and grabbing Aramis by the arms. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter?” Aramis repeated incredulously.

“The reason, I mean. If she is calling you. I mean, you say she is calling to you so she must be and she must have a reason for doing so. We simply do not know what it is. Perhaps we are not meant to know the why of it.”

“Then what am I meant to do?” Aramis asked. He was at his wit’s end. At least d’Artagnan wasn’t telling him it was all in his head or that he was dreaming, though.

“Listen,” d’Artagnan replied with a shrug. “C’mon. Let’s get the rest of these reset and get back.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All of them were tense when it came time to turn in for the night. Aramis had thought long and hard about what d’Artagnan had said. Was that really all that Adele or whoever it was wanted? Did he simply need to listen? But if that was the case, how was Adele talking to him like this? What did it mean? And was it truly Adele that was calling to him?

“Why don’t you two get some sleep?” d’Artagnan said to Athos and Porthos. He had watched his brothers grow more and more tense as the night had worn on. “I’ll keep an eye on things tonight.”

“I do not require a keeper,” Aramis said softly.

“No one is implying that you do,” d’Artagnan said. 

“Fine. We are leaving at first light,” Athos said. “Both of you get some sleep. And do not leave this tent.”

“Is that an order?” Aramis asked.

“Yes,” Athos replied.

Aramis tried to do as he was bid and sleep but he could not get his mind to rest. His thoughts kept turning to Adele. How she had looked the last time they had made love. How the sun had glinted off the gold of her hair. How her voice sounded like tinkling glass when she laughed. He missed her so much. He did not tell his brothers but her absence was like a wound within him that refused to heal. He did not believe she had chosen the Cardinal over him, not willingly. They loved each other. They had even talked of…

Aramis froze. He had heard it. The sound of Adele’s voice floating on the wind, its tinkling notes as familiar to him as any Psalm. Without thought, he threw aside the blanket covering him and rose, careful not to disturb the others. D’Artagnan had told him to listen and that was what he intended to do. Creeping from the tent, he moved toward the sound of her voice. He froze again when he heard the timbre of it change, the tinkling, girlish lilt suddenly turning high and frightened. 

“No,” he snarled as he rushed toward the sound of her voice. Pushing through a tangle of trees and bramble he broke out into another clearing, much smaller than the one they camped in a few yards away. It was not so much the clearing that caused him to stop short but what was happening in it. 

Adele was on her knees, held there by a pair of Red Guards. Another Red Guard approached her from behind. He carried in his hand Aramis’ own pistol. He recognized it as the one that had been returned to him by the Cardinal’s servant after Adele’s departure. He watched, unable to move, as the Red Guardsman walked up behind the woman he loved and settled the pistol at the back of her head.

“NO!” Aramis tried to scream but his words were locked in his throat. He struggled to move then, trying to lunge forward and stop what was about to happen, but he could not move. It was as if he was merely an observer, meant to bear witness but unable to act.

_”I love Aramis,” Adele cried out bravely as she knelt on the cold, hard ground. “Think of Aramis. Think of Aramis.”_

Aramis flinched hard at the sound of the shot ringing out. Tears poured down his face as the Red Guard released their hold on Adele and her body slowly fell to the earth. Suddenly, the Guardsmen faded away and Aramis felt himself able to move again. 

He ran forward, throwing himself down beside her fallen body. He knew she was dead. The back of her head had been blown off but he needed to see her face. His hands were shaking as he gently turned her over. He couldn’t bite back a sob when the most beautiful green eyes he had ever seen looked up at him. 

“Shh, don’t cry, my love,” Adele whispered through blood-stained lips.

“Adele,” Aramis sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

“No, my love. It was never your fault,” she told him. “I loved you, Aramis. It was always you.”

Staring down at her, Aramis watched as her eye grew glassy and lifeless. Clutching her to his chest, he began to scream and sob as he rocked here back and forth. He had done this. He had loved her and that love had been her death sentence.

The sound of a scream woke Athos with a start, Porthos and d’Artagnan not far behind. A quick glance around the tent told them all they needed to know and they took off toward the sound of their brother’s cries at a run. They saw no sign of their wayward brother at first but they quickly followed the sound of his sobs until they found him in a little clearing. He was on his knees, rocking back and forth as he wept. When Athos crouched down next to him, he was shocked to see that he was covered in blood.

“Where are you hurt?” Athos asked, looking him over for any sign of an injury.

“I’m not,” Aramis gasped.

“You’re covered in blood.”

“It’s h-h-hers,” Aramis sobbed.

“What?” Porthos scowled.

“The b-b-blood is Adele’s,” Aramis repeated. “The Cardinal murdered her. He killed her because she loved me.”

“Oh Aramis,” Athos said as he reached out and pulled Aramis into his arms. He held him then, rocking him back and forth as he had done Adele’s body a few short moments ago. He didn’t stop until Aramis had calmed then they quickly bundled him off back to their tent. They spent the rest of the night watching their brother’s fitful sleep, easing him again whenever he grew overly distressed. 

When morning came they were all more than ready to leave. Athos wasn’t sure what had happened and wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. What he did want was to get Aramis as far away from there as possible as quickly as was prudent. 

“Keep an eye on the road to watch for ice,” d’Artagnan cautioned as they mounted their horses. 

“I’ll take the lead,” Porthos said, giving his horse a gentle nudge. He’d had all he could take of phantom voices and needed to get back to civilization.

“Brother?” Athos called when Aramis hesitated, turning to look back at their camp.

Aramis didn’t reply at first. He was too busy staring at Adele. He realized, of course, none of his brothers could see her. That was alright, this was just for him. She was standing in the sunshine looking as radiant as ever in his favorite green dress. She was smiling at him and though his heart gave a tug, he smiled back. In true Adele fashion, she blew him a kiss as she winked at him then walked behind a tree and disappeared out of sight.

“Let’s go home, Athos.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Weeks Later:

“I thought I might find you here,” Athos said when he walked over to where Aramis knelt on the ground. 

Aramis had told the Captain that he needed a couple of days to take care of a personal matter. Treville had given him the time then had promptly informed Athos of the request telling the man he had not liked the way Aramis had looked. Luckily, Athos had an idea of where Aramis might be going. 

Aramis didn’t answer his brother. He was kneeling in the small clearing where he had watched Adele die, where his brothers had found him screaming and covered in blood that he claimed belonged to her. He was digging around in the undergrowth with a dagger as if looking for something. A moment later he sat back as he pulled a broken locket out of the dirt.

“She died here,” Aramis explained. “It’s what she was trying to tell me. That she was dead but she forgave me for getting her killed.”

Athos sighed and sat down on the ground next to his brother. He took the locket from Aramis and saw that it was indeed that of Adele Bessette. “That isn’t what she was telling you,” he said, handing it back.

“No? The Cardinal had her executed with my own pistol, Athos. What else could she possibly have been trying to tell me?”

“You said it yourself. The Cardinal had her executed. Adele didn’t blame you for that. She died… she died loving you, Aramis. That’s what she was trying to tell you. That she loved you and that she was alright now and that it was alright for you to move on.”

“Do you truly believe that?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“So you believe me now? About Adele?”

“I always believed you, brother. Now let’s go home.”

End.


End file.
